Life Goes On
by Everlasting-painting
Summary: During the warmer seasons, the trees garb themselves in majestic fashions that make them appear like beautiful models, but during the winter when they lose their clothing of leaves you can see how anorexic they are. Just like Arthur.
1. The End

_During the warmer seasons the trees garb themselves in majestic fashions that make them appear like beautiful models, but during the winter when they lose their clothing of leaves you can see how anorexic they are. _

_Just like Arthur._

It was winter.

Snow was falling to the ground.

A man was falling apart.

Quick gusts of wind assaulted Arthur, chilling him through his many layers of clothing. He stopped walking to pull up his collar to cover his wind bitten face. The wind continued to blow, making his muscles shiver and his teeth clatter. He pulled up his collar further and wrapped his scarf around his neck and the bottom half of his face. He slung his gloved fingers back into his pocket and resumed walking.

"_God damn this cold"_, He thought, kicking almost violently at the couple of inches of fresh snow that he was walking through. "_Just a little farther and I'll be home"_.

He walked. Every step he took brought a soft crunch from fresh snow and long dead grass. But the grass always comes back. Like the trees. During the winter they lose their beauty, seeming to be dead, but as soon as spring comes they return. Arthur was not going to be like the trees and grass. He was not going to return to life next spring.

Arthur reached his apartment building a few minutes later. He walked up the snow covered steps with relief, eager for the warmth of his apartment and a hot bath.

He walked through the empty corridor of the apartment hallway, his footsteps echoing through the empty silence. Arthur started up the stairs up to the second floor, where his apartment was at. He walked past the other rooms, filled with so many different people. So many different stories.

When he was finally inside his apartment he collapsed on his couch, not even bothering to take off the many layers of clothing he was wearing. He continued to tremble, even though the apartment was much warmer than outside.

When he was finally able to drag himself off the couch he trudged to the bathroom, ready for a hot bath to cease his shivering.

He ran the water. The spray from the facet wetting his arms with ice cold water.

He rummaged through his medicine cabinet as he waited for the water to heat up. He pulled out two orange translucent containers, both filled halfway with little white pills. Oxycodone.

He placed one pill on his tongue and swallowed it quickly, feeling it side down his throat. He shivered, and put the bottles on the edge of the bathtub.

He went to feel the water, and deemed it hot enough. He put in the stopper, watching with interest how the water began to rise, stretching thin across the white floor of the tub.

He stripped off his clothes, layer by layer. He examined himself in the mirror. His blonde hair covered his eyes, which were once bright green but now held a dull and defeated look. His limbs were skinny and gawky, and his collar bones and pelvic bone stuck out sharply against his pale skin.

"_I look terrible"_

He ran a finger down his side, tracing each individual rib that protruded from his body. Arthur shivered again, but he couldn't tear his eyes from the man in front of him. His fingers brushed over his nipples and down his stomach. He lightly traced his finger down the length of his cock. He shivered.

Arthur looked away and walked toward the nearly full tub. He stepped into the scolding water, flinching a bit. He settled into the tub, the water quickly jumping up a few inches.

He just laid there for a few minutes before reaching over and grabbing one of the orange bottles and pouring all of its contents into his hand. The blonde stared at the twenty or so little white pills.

"Life goes on", he whispered. "Even if mine doesn't".

He pushed the pills into his mouth and threw his head back, swallowing painfully.

He shivered once more and waited.

**Okay first chapter which is the... last chapter? I don't know this story confuses me.**

**I know, sad and short. Sorry.  
**

**Review? I dun know brah. Your life, your choice. (But I would enjoy reading it very much)  
**


	2. Little Hell

_So when we leave it'll be a quick midnight escape. __  
__We'__ll disconnect ourselves from all of yesterday. __  
__I'll dig for water and fashion our very own wishing well. __  
__Then, we'll throw our coins down hoping to rid us of this little hell.__  
__  
__Will we get out of this little hell?_

Alfred awoke from his sleep to the noises of the medical equipment beside his bed. For a minute he was confused about where he was. Until it all came crashing back down.

He had cancer in his eyes.

Tubes and wires were sticking out of his body. Connecting him to those machines. Not anchoring him, but imprisoning him.

He laid his head back and cried. His shoulders shook and his tears dripped down his face.

"Dammit why...? I don't deserve this..."

He sat up in his bed. Wet tracks had formed down his cheeks.

Soft light shown in through the window, letting Alfred know that it was early in the afternoon. He looked out to see an empty playground. The equipment looked new and pristine, like the plastic slides and swings had never seen children companionship.

_There's never a place more abandoned than a hospital playground._

This was Hell. He was in his own little hell.

"Alfred"

The blonde looked over to the other side of the room to find his brother leaning against the open door frame.

"A-A..."

"Alfred, stop crying, it is not gentleman like at all."

Despite the Englishman's words, he himself had a few tears running down his cheeks.

Arthur walked over the blonde who was confined to the bed.

"Why are you crying?" he asked, sitting down in a chair next to Alfred.

"Why do you think? I... I'm going to be blind."

"You don't know that-"

"Yes, I do! This cancer is eating me! My eyes... "

Arthur looked down at his hands. His sandy blonde hair fell in his face, casting shadows that hide his eyes. "Alfred, stop please, you hurt me when you say things like that."

Alfred pulled slightly at the tube sticking out of the underside of his wrist. It was feeding him. Making him drowsy.

"Brother, when will we get out of this little hell?"

**I know this is short I'm sorry. If you don't understand this is what happened before Arthur's suicide. And this is about a week or so after Alfred found out he had cancer (Remember that... this story's time line is really whack)**

**Review? I don't know, it's your decision, but I'd love to hear your opinion.**

**Beginning was from a song called 'Little Hell' by City And Colour. Go check them out, they're pretty radical.**


	3. Tear Out My Eyes

_Tear out my eyes!  
Remove my gift of  
Sight, proves ever cursing!  
The light won't find us here!_

_Painted red, my eyes are burning!_

The doctors came, and days past. Days turned into weeks, and soon Alfred would rather be dead than staring at the boring hospital walls any longer.

Nothing had gotten better.

The doctors didn't know of any way to apply the radiation to Alfred's eyes without causing him to go blind, which they were trying to avoid at all costs. They had to get rid of the cancer somehow, and if they didn't act fast it would spread. If it infected his brain his chances of living declined steeply, not to mention the effect it could have on the rest of his body.

Alfred started to wonder when they were just going to rip out his eyes already. It was going to happen anyway, better sooner than later.

Sometimes Alfred found himself unable to close his eyes. The senses must feast while there is still life. The thought of absolute darkness for the rest of his life terrified him.

During the nights the machines would scream at him, keeping him up and preventing sleep. Dark circles formed under his eyes, and the medicine drained the colour and life from his irises.

Oh how he hated the cancer. It was stealing everything from him. It was taking his sight, his strength, his life. Alfred hated it.

He often asked 'why me?'

Why him?

Maybe fate simply did not like our young hero.

Maybe it was punishment for his lust for his brother.

Arthur.

Alfred held a longing for his brother that he knew would never be reciprocated. It was sinful, unthinkable. But Alfred did think about it. Often in fact.

When Alfred pondered these things it made him feel sick, and yet he still wanted it.

When Arthur would fall asleep in the chair beside his bed, Alfred would often think about touching his face, or kissing him. Sometimes the need felt unbearable. Arthur's lips looked too soft, his eyes too bright, his entire being to beautiful... But then Alfred would remember his condition.

If he did start something with his brother Arthur might be disgusted, and not come visit him anymore. Arthur's visits were what kept him going. Alfred couldn't live knowing Arthur hated him.

Even if Arthur did return his love, there was no insurance that Alfred was going to live. If he died, that would leave Arthur even more devastated.

Alfred couldn't do that. He couldn't, and yet the thought swam inside his mind.

Yes, no. Love, hate. Life... death.

Alfred was so tired of everything.

He was tired of the the thoughts of death. He was tired of the tests and medicine. He was tired of the needles and blank walls. He was tired of the ever present burning in his eyes, and ache in his skull.

Once he swore he could feel it. The tumor. Slithering inside his brain, and behind his eyes. Like a worm inside a corpse. He screamed because he thought he felt it tearing through his eye, releasing itself into the world.

Later, after Alfred had been sedated and his pain killers were increased, the doctors told him that he had a panic attack.

Alfred paid no mind to their hushed mummers and nervous glances. The medicine messed with his mind too much for him to really pay attention to anything.

Early the next morning, his main doctor and two others walked into his room. Their faces were emotionless and they spoke in businesslike tones.

"Mr. Jones, we suggest you start getting used to the idea of losing your sight."

**Next chapter will be from Arthur's POV. It will be from when Alfred and Arthur first find out about the cancer so pay attention to the time and… stuff. Yeah this time line is really messed up but just bear with me.  
**

**R-Review? Pwease ;_;? I need motivation...  
**

**Beginning was from a song called 'A single moment of sincerity' by Asking Alexandria. (A.k.a. the best metalcore band ever)**


	4. The Fear

_Sometimes I caught myself  
Looking in the mirror  
With my eyeballs out  
And I'm looking at the fear  
In the bottom of the drain  
Saw it growing like a plant  
But it never worked out  
The way I wrote it in my hands  
I tried, I tried, I tried, decide, decide, decide... _

…

"I'm sorry. Mr. Jones is not currently in shape to take visitors," Said the nurse as she continued to type on her computer behind the desk. She had a look of disinterest, and she spoke with a nasally tone.

"I'm his brother..."

"I'm sorry, but as I said Mr. Jones has just had some frightening news and-"

"I'm his brother!"

The woman just stared at him. Arthur saw genuine pity in her brown eyes. Innocent eyes like Alfred's.

Alfred.

"Very well..." She mumbled.

Arthur sighed in relief. He hated himself for not being there when they told Alfred. He wasn't going to let Alfred be alone any more.

She led him down a hallway and stopped at a plain white door. It was no different from the others, but it was so special to Arthur. Alfred was in there.

"Please Mister…"

"Kirkland".

"Well then, Mr. Kirkland I would like to remind you of Mr. Jone's condition".

"I know of his condition" He said through clenched teeth.

"Well you know _of _his condition, but you do not know the details. Mr. Jones has a very rare type of cancer in his cornea. The news is still fresh so I would suggest you not speak of it with him in great detail. I believe he is sleeping at the moment."

"I understand."

"Very well, are you a guardian?"

"I'm his brother".

Arthur opened the door and stepped inside a dark room, with the only light being supplied from a television on the wall. It was muted but the light cast harsh shadows.

Arthur walked over to a small bed. Alfred was curled up on his side under a blanket, and Arthur could see the rise and fall of his chest.

He sat down in a nearby chair and stared at the younger blonde's face. His eyes were closed and his lips were parted slightly. He looked peaceful, almost like when he was a little boy.

But Alfred wasn't a little boy anymore.

Arthur traced a finger down the side of his brother's cheek, up his nose and following the curve of his brow. He leaned down to press a soft kiss to Alfred's forehead, his lips lingering on the other skin as tears began to run down his own face.

He pulled back and took Alfred's hand from under the blanket, and held it until the morning.

**I-I tried to give you guys a happy ending for this chapter ;_; B-Because what's next will be really sad…**

**I'm sorry it's short... I have a lot of school work and my girlfriend says I spend too much time writing anyway.  
**

**Beginning from 'Always Something' by Cage The Elephant. **


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